My fellow Americans, we have some very important decisions to make tomorrow. Beyond choosing (with the assistance, or not, of the electoral college) who’ll be sitting in the big chair, there are thousands of other races across our great nation which have the potential to affect us, and our friends and neighbors, and the friends and […]
We’re almost there, poodles. Deep breath. Chin up. America’s year-long fest to light our own farts is almost over. Lets do this debate liveblog thing one last time. For unicorns. For peace. For America herself.
Here we are again, dear readers. We’re a month out from the election, and if there’s anyone out there who still has faith in humanity, please pitch us. We’re accepting drinking game suggestions on Twitter and in the comments all through the debate. Mostly, we’re just looking for justification from our peers.
Let’s watch the debate, shall we? Gawker’s dead, there’s a Chiapet running for President, it’s time for Persephone to start raising a little hades.
As it turns out, we have not been living in a nightmare for the past year, we’re on the fast track to hell in a handbasket full of deplorables. As Persephoneers, we always have a plan, even in the event of a wee-fingered-Cheeto inspired apocalypse.
As you’ve noticed, I’m sure, we’ve dropped off content by quite a bit. This post is to explain why, and to talk a bit about our future. Lest I bury the lede, the most important takeaway is that we’re not going anywhere. Pmag will stay online as long as the server bill gets paid, and […]
No, really, fuck you.
While we’re waiting for the nominations to be tabulated, let’s start some friendly wagers on who’s going to walk away with it this year.
Go nominate, slacker!
What are you waiting for?
It’s that time of year once again! We’re about to launch the fifth annual Persephone Magazine Middlemarch Madness, where all our favorite literary heroines are pitted against each other in a battle to the finish.
I do not normally have high expectations for the NBC network. The promo for their event series (“event series” is a story all in itself), The Slap, did nothing to change this.
Hell, when aren’t we working?
In spite of all the warnings drilled into me since I was a wee MacIntosh, I swab out my ear canals like a rebel, after every single shower.